Vicinity of Insanity
by istoleyourcheesecake
Summary: Between VII and AC: Cloud's past comes back to haunt him as the survivors of the Meteor try to aspire into a new life in Edge. Psychological and subconscious struggling to redeem himself as the memories of the catastrophic events six months ago plague him - day and night. This is turning really angsty.
1. Breach 2

**AN: Hi guys! This is the first time I'm writing a Final Fantasy fanfic, and also the first time I'm trying to write a scary and psychologically pressing story. It's a new challenge, and I'd appreciate all the comments and suggestions to make it better.**

**Disclaimers: I do not own any rights to Final Fantasy VII characters, but the story line's mine, so hands off of it, please.**

**Also, the Irish inscription I've included is not originally discovered by me. I ran across it in another story on (I now wish I had looked up the author's name but I didn't) and I just thought it to be so cool I wanted to add it into my own story as well. If the original person who used this in their story reads this, I'm sorry if you're offended by me borrowing the inscription without asking a permission. If you'd like, let me know and I'll be glad to delete the part.**

* * *

Breach II – Guilt

_Stranger by whom these words be read,_

_Weep for the living, not for the dead._

-Irish tombstone inscription

* * *

It was bright; the radiance spread across the never-ending field he found himself standing on. Cloud hadn't remembered the sky could be such a light shade of blue. Or perhaps he just hadn't noticed it before. It seemed almost transparent; the color was so ethereal with hues of white and light pink. The sweet smell of flowers sneaked its way into his nostrils – delicate yet fresh, like a lingering ghost of a crisp fall morning after the ground has been ever so slightly frozen over. He inhaled deeply, savoring it.

Warm air of the plains graced Cloud's cheek softly. As he made his way forward, he looked around and when he glanced up to the sky, Cloud couldn't bring himself to be surprised to notice that there was no sun.

He had no idea for how long he had been walking in there, nor could he quite pinpoint how he had got there in the first place. If this was a real place, he didn't know nor did he care. He didn't feel anxious or tired, and although he wasn't quite sure, he had the hunch he couldn't feel hunger in this place, either. On the contrary, the plains and the innumerable flowers comforted him with their relaxing aroma. If Cloud had faith in a divine power, he could have imagined one to dwell in a place like this.

Suddenly, a strange feeling of familiarity engulfed him. Suddenly he was very much aware that he wasn't alone.

"Huh?" With a quiet sound, he looked around. His heart leaped, not too nicely, when he saw another person sitting amongst the flowers, their back turned towards him, about a hundred meters away. He didn't need to see the person's outline to feel Aerith's aura. Inwardly, Cloud scolded himself for not recognizing the presence of the woman immediately. He started to walk towards her, casually at first, but speeding up as the desire to just see her – to _touch_ her – nearly overpowered him. Still, subconsciously he understood that he was expected to approach carefully; that running would disturb this wonderful place, and risk driving the spirit away.

For a spirit she indeed was. Cloud's mood grew dark as the painful memory of laying Aerith's body to her final rest forced its way into his mind. Despite what everyone around him constantly tried to tell him, Cloud blamed himself for letting that happen – for letting Sephiroth... He shuddered with a sting of hate, and with significant willpower, he managed to submerge the memory of the cruel, victorious smirk on Sephiroth's face when Aerith breathed her last.

She didn't turn around immediately when Cloud reached her. She did acknowledge him, however, by a small nod over her shoulder, eyes downcast.

"Hello, Cloud," she said softly yet clearly. Her voice was warm and gentle, and it struck Cloud like a hammer into his heart. This woman had suffered so much. He couldn't comprehend her kindness, especially towards himself. Cloud didn't think he deserved it. He didn't know what to tell her, what could he possibly say? What do you say to the spirit of a loved one? Should he ask her how she was? Should he apologize? It took him quite some time to utter a simple "hello", and even that sounded nervous and a bit off.

"It's been such a while," the spirit said, finally turning around. She smiled at Cloud with the warmth of the very Sun itself, Cloud was certain of it, and her beautiful eyes shone with genuine happiness. He gulped. "How have you been, Cloud?"

Like shit? Cloud thought briefly, but was absolutely not going to say that out loud. However, Aerith chuckled a little, causing the blond to consider anxiously if the spirit had gained the ability to read minds. Looking away briefly, he said the only reasonable thing he could think of,

"I've missed you."

Aerith's glowing aura grew less radiant and a frown was beginning to form between her eyes. Her voice was calm, but it had a venomous edge to it that caused Cloud to gasp audibly when she replied, "Well perhaps you shouldn't have let me die then."

That hit the mark. A guilty and pained expression flashed on Cloud's face and he took an unconscious step back, feeling ashamed of himself. "I- I'm sorry..." he begun but was cut short. He couldn't convince even himself.

Cloud felt like vomiting. He had felt like it for the past six months. Involuntarily, his hands had begun to tremble. The previously such warm and inviting look on Aerith's face turned stern and demanding, and the spirit's glow dimmed.

His voice stressed, Cloud forced out, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

Aerith didn't say anything for a while, but her eyes filled with sorrow and the last remaining glimmer of radiant aura about her died down. Cloud was lost for words – this was his fault. He wanted to comfort the spirit, to apologize, to do anything to make her feel better. He moved his hand towards her shoulder in an attempt to touch her – _to pull her against his chest and hold her_ – but was interrupted when he noticed movement in the corner of his eye. His eyes immediately flew towards the hazy notion, and he couldn't help a shocked yelp from escaping when he saw the dark, bluish mucus.

Out of Aerith's left arm was oozing thick, dark mud that gradually moved up her arm and trailed downwards to stain her palm and fingers. Shocked, Cloud instinctively jerked his hand back away from the woman in confusion. His jammed mind finally managed to question if she was in pain, and he cast a scared look at Aerith's face. Aerith had turned her head away from the disturbing sight in her arm and refused to look at Cloud in the eyes.

"What... happened to you?!" Cloud quickly closed in the distance between them and gripped the yet untainted hand of the woman. She still didn't look at him, and Cloud grew alarmed. "Answer me, Aerith! What is this?"

Aerith spoke in a low voice. "You think I'm disgusting." She had her eyes downcast, looking at the flowers on which a few droplets of mucus now fell. The flowers withered instantly. Then she turned her head towards him again, and Cloud's eyes widened in sheer shock and terror. His body worked before his mind could keep up, and out of instinct he pushed her away from him and stumbled back a few feet, his eyes like saucers.

"You think I'm disgusting," she said again, but this time she was upset and angry, and her voice echoed darkly.

Where her eyes should have been were now two bottomless holes, and the thick, disgusting substance steadily welled up from them. The mucus shimmered in dirty shade of electric blue in the sunless light of the ethereal plain. From the mud emerged other things as well – rotted sea weeds, sparkling objects that looked like glass shards, even creatures. Cloud watched in useless terror as a leech about the size of a fist formed from amongst the dark mass that now trailed down to stain Aerith's lips and trickled onto her breasts. The creature slimed its way down her cheek and neck, and when it reached her collarbone, it bit down onto her neck. Aerith flinched at the pain.

The air turned heavy and presuring, the sky darkened and the radiance was gone. From the corners of his eyes, Cloud noticed that the flower plain was melting away. It dribbled down into the blackness beneath as if the entire universe had spilled over its edges and fallen into the deep, lifeless space, everywhere around him, the edge getting nearer and nearer. This can't be happening, you're dreaming, none of this is real – his logical mind tried to reason with his panicked heart, but failed miserably. Cloud's breath came in quick, scared gasps and he tried – in vain – to turn his eyes away from the obscene sight in front of him.

"What happened, you ask. Well I tell you. _You_ happened, Cloud." All the warmth was gone. Suddenly, Cloud felt chilling. Her voice was like a rugged blade that tore right through his chest, and Cloud briefly wondered how anything can possibly scorch and freeze at the same time. "You did this to me! You are the reason why I am like this!" There was a gasp from Aerith as a new wound was ripped right below her chest. The mass spurted out of her in a splash of black and blue as if something had been roughly pushed into her back, impaling her. _Again_, Cloud thought desperately.

"No..." Cloud backed away, his face frozen in a look of terror, as Aerith took a step closer. The dribbling edge of the plain was only meters away.

"_You failed me, Cloud!_" Aerith's voice wasn't hers anymore. It was pained and shrieking and piercing and drowned everything underneath it, including the erratic thumping of Cloud's heart. Aerith pointed her finger towards him, and Cloud saw that her right palm was now oozing as well. The substance was gradually covering up her entire body. _"You didn't protect me! You let me to die!"_

"No... stop it..." Cloud was too frightened to think of anything to say, he just desperately whispered those little words, more to himself than to the creature in front of him. He was beyond scared when he realized there was no way out for him. The blackness surrounding what little was left of the plain was overpowering. Cloud flinched when he realized that if he took two more steps back, he'd fall off the edge, and the edge kept crawling closer. As did Aerith, and Cloud couldn't tell which he was more afraid of.

His heart skipped a beat when she spoked – _screamed_ – again. Run over by shame, guilt, helplessness, a myriad of other feelings, Cloud couldn't protect himself but listened to her storming,

"_You tried to hurt me yourself! It is your fault that I died! _You_ did this to me!_"

The ground caved in under Cloud's feet and he stumbled backwards into unending darkness and fell. He cast the last, desperate and apologetic glance towards the horrifying figure that used to be the woman he had loved, and the image of dark, glimmering mud now pooling out from her eyes was burned into his mind. Before blackness consumed him, he could still hear painfully clearly the woman screaming one word again and again, and clenched his eyes shut and could have died on the spot.

_Failure_.

"Stop it!" He clamped his hands over his ears in a subconscious attempt to block out the sound before realizing the screaming he heard was from inside his head. "Please... stop it," he whispered to himself. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I... wish I was stronger. I couldn't save you. I couldn't even protect myself that day. I... I tried to hurt you. I live with it every day..." He felt sick. He wanted to throw up, but nothing came out. The scrutinizing feeling of guilt ate at his heart.

Cloud fell, for how long or how deep, he didn't know. It was silent and pitch-black, devoid of all feeling. Just... empty. Suddenly, Cloud could hear _swishes_ from around him and the blackness grew cold and suffocating. He peered carefully from behind his half-open lids and saw flashes of silver.

He squeezed his eyes back shut again when another head-splitting scream tore through his mind, and he pressed his palms harder against his ears, whimpering quietly. He saw images, teasing flashes of the past; he recognized the outline of the collapsing ruins of Nibelheim being consumed by the fire – heard the desolate, frightened screams of the townsfolk, felt the agony and disbelief in his chest sting vividly. He could have sworn he felt blood rushing out of his own chest from where Masamune had pierced him that day, and he clenched his chest, trying to shelter himself.

The vision of burning bodies and incinerated houses blurred up in a hot flash of flames, and from amongst the ruins he could make out the shape of an all too familiar dark, spiked hair. He saw Zack, laying on the ground, coughing up blood. His face got rounder and more feminine and his hair lengthened and bleached lighter until it was replaced by the loving features of Aerith. She smiled at him sweetly, but as she blinked her eyes closed, Cloud knew what was coming. He found himself again staring into those bottomless pits with thick tar seeping out of them. As he stared at her, unable to block the visions, Aerith opened her mouth to say something. Cloud watched helplessly in horror as the crack between her lips got wider and wider.

It tore muscle. The skin around Aerith's lips yielded as the crack widened unnaturally, and kept expanding. Cloud could see only blackness inside her as the air turned chilling and his breath evaporated. Then, the shrilling screaming filled the space again. It echoed in the emptiness, shattered and impaled him. Cloud tried to cover into himself, to protect his ears, to move away from the horrific sight. But there was nowhere for him to run to, and nothing to move away from.

From midst the pounding, relentless screaming and freezing cold, Cloud felt a light touch on his arm. Just a wisp, feathery even. Unable to stop himself, he cracked his eyes open, and saw turquoise and silver, and felt his heart sink. Cloud's desperate scream mixed in together with the woman screaming in his head as he clenched his eyes shut and tried to tear his hair off.

* * *

"Cloud? Cloud! Hey, Cloud!"

"Huh?!" Cloud startled awake when Tifa shook his shoulder vigorously. He snapped his still a bit hazy gaze at her, trying to gather where he was. Tifa turned her head back to him from the road she had briefly turned to look at, eyes filling with relief. Seeing that her friend was awake, she let our a deep breath of content. Cloud had been twitching and mumbling something incomprehensible in his sleep for minutes, and Tifa had gotten a bit uncomfortable.

"Bad dream?" she said with an inkling of a smirk as she turned to face the road again.

Cloud, stroking his wild hair with his left hand, let out a sigh as the last of sleep left him. He snorted a somewhat affirmative answer to her, and yawned to bring himself back into this world. "Wasn't pleasant..."

"Care to share?" Tifa grinned at him happily in an attempt to cheer him up. She was also a bit curious to hear the story, but wasn't particularly expecting to hear it.

"'Don't really wanna talk about it," he muttered and looked away from Tifa. "How long did I sleep?"

"Half an hour, tops. Are you tired?"

"Not really..."

What a horrible nightmare, Cloud thought absentmindedly. He must have fallen asleep and dreamed, that was the only logical explanation. Although, Cloud couldn't remember feeling tired earlier. Shrugging, Cloud turned his away from Tifa to look out of the window on the passenger's side of the vehicle.

Tifa had managed to borrow a truck and they were on their way to dig and pick some iron bars up from the ruins of Midgar – Tifa had said they were desperately needed in the numerous construction sites in Edge, and Cloud had agreed to be of extra muscle.

Cloud gazed in a bored way at the vast wasteland they were passing, not really looking at anything. They were driving in steady pace, but still he could feel a bulge of discomfort forming in his stomach. He hadn't realized it through his dream, but now that he was wide awake, he begun to notice that the truck's a-bit-too-cool-to-be-enjoyable air conditioning, the vehicle's swaying and slight tremor against the uneven gravel road, even the very fabric of his seat were all starting to bug him increasingly. He really didn't enjoy a car ride, and the motion sickness was slowly but surely kicking in. He swallowed firmly in an attempt to push back the nauseating feeling and tried to focus his eyes on the road ahead instead.

Why did I let Tifa drag me along in the truck? I could have taken the bike and met her there, he thought sulkily as he kept trying to fight the uneasiness. Tifa had protested him taking the bike since she figured that if they had to take the truck anyway, it would have been a waste of fuel for him to ride separately. Like a sheep he had finally agreed.

Tifa must have noticed for she glanced suspiciously at the blond and asked quickly, "Hey Cloud, are you alright?"

Slightly tilting his head towards the woman, Cloud replied with an agreeing hum. "Just getting a little... motion sick. Can you please try to _avoid_ the bumps instead of hitting them?" he grunted half-heartedly when Tifa raised him a questioning eyebrow: he didn't seem fine to her. "I'm fine, really."

She didn't quite buy it but had known Cloud for long enough to be aware of his genuine discomfort with other kinds of vehicles besides his bike (which, in all honesty, Tifa had always found peculiar). She would also know it when Cloud, even if he should have, didn't want to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him. This was one of those times.

More than willing to change the subject since thinking about it only made the feeling worse, Cloud asked in a bored voice, "So, where exactly are we going?"

Tifa considered for a second if she should go along with his trail of thought, but replied, "There is a collapsed industrial hall in the old Second Sector that was largely constructed of iron and aluminum, even copper. I heard that it didn't take an awful lot of beating, save for the roof structures, and that much of it might still be usable. We just have to go and get it." She turned her face towards Cloud to flash him a grateful smile before turning back to the road.

"Hmm..." Cloud's response was a mere indication he had acknowledged what she said; he really didn't come to think of anything to say.

Tifa glanced at the blond gazing out of the window quickly before her lips spread into a mischievous grin, and she suddenly yanked the steering wheel abruptly, tossing the truck to the side recklessly. She let out a hearty little laughter at Cloud's surprised yelp as he instinctively grabbed his belt to balance himself and Tifa brought the truck back to the road.

"Hey! If you're driving then _would you please_, otherwise I'll be glad to!" The irritated feeling in Cloud's stomach had jerked up at the sudden abrupt steer and his voice was sickly and annoyed.

Tifa laughed at him and said, "Relax, just kidding." When Cloud still pouted at her, she friendly punched him into his arm and added, "Oh, comoon, it was fun!"

Cloud still grumbled something to himself as he settled comfortably into his seat again; Tifa only chuckled, and finally, even Cloud shook his head at the woman and laughed a little.

* * *

Most of what the old city had held had fallen when the Meteor crashed into Midgar. Homes, industry, businesses, everything, leaving the city to become desolate ruins inhabited by the restless spirits of the deceased, if even those dared to haunt the skeleton of the former technology capital. The survivors had been snatching whatever useful scrap metal and other construction materials and supplies they possibly could from every part of the city in order to build a new home, and there was a dire need for all the raw material they managed to gather. Edge was only an embryo of a city; many still lived on the streets in lack of accommodation, and cold and diseases were a constant threat in the newborn urban area. And the already developing outskirts had it even worse. _Much_ worse. Out there, the people took shelter in the old sewers and out-of-use mining tunnels for the night – there was no permanent housing.

The hint had been precious: the ruins of the hall were raggedy, but some individual pieces of constructions hadn't taken too much damage. A bit dented from here and there, but definitely reusable. The building had had copper pipe plumbing, and seeing that caused Tifa to actually jump about in excitement and clap her hands a little. Cloud and Tifa dug up and loaded the truck with strong iron and copper bars, fuel, whole sheets of aluminum – basically whatever they could find.

"I'm going to go look up ahead if I can find some more fuel. Surely would come in handy," Tifa yelled eagerly to Cloud as she dusted her hands after having dug up and heaved onto the truck a long bulk of iron that had been half-buried under the debris. Cloud raised his hand at her direction and hollered out a "fine", and she was on her way without another word. Cloud himself was disassembling a former industrial elevator, detaching the strong supporting structures from around the lift shaft that had – surprisingly – survived the calamity with little damage.

As the last supporting bolt yielded and unhinged, the heavy bar came falling down with a _CLANG_. Cloud gazed at it for a moment, satisfied with its quality as well as his efforts. He brought his hand up to wipe the sweat off of his brow; the roof of the hall had caved in, allowing sunlight to enter the space, and Cloud was feeling quite warm in his knitted vest. With a sigh he ran his hand casually through his mass of hair, and cast his eyes up into the blue sky.

Not really fighting it, Cloud let his mind wander back into his dream just a few hours ago. "A third one..." the blond thought out loud.

However, this time it had been different. The previous nightmares about the past had, at least as far as he could remember, never been this intense. He had usually forgotten about them as he had snapped awake, remembering an anxious feeling but not being entirely sure what for. In fact, he was quite certain he had never actually been an active part of his nightmares before – more like a bystander or an apparition. But this time... His eyebrows tightened into a frown when he recollected the freezing atmosphere; the gruesome image of disgusting liquid trickling down Aerith's face and neck; and – the turquoise eyes... in the blackness...

Cloud gasped involuntarily as a strong, chilling shiver ran down his spine at the recollection of Sephiroth's cold, menacing, crystal clear eyes in front of him, and his hand rose to touch the scar in his chest lightly. He clenched his teeth and gave a deliberate shake to his head. "He's dead," Cloud stated firmly to himself. It was the truth, Cloud himself had watched him evaporate into Lifestream. But how come he didn't feel reassured?


	2. Breach 1

**Disclaimer and AN: I really hate the whole Nibelheim Incident. I wish I owned FFVII so I could have that part changed, but I highly doubt Square-Enix would provide me with the privilege to the rights, even if I asked most nicely. So let them keep them.**

* * *

_I couldn't bring myself to sleep well for weeks. Not that I could have, Hojo made sure of that. But it wasn't the relentless torture he put me through that denied me the little rest I could have had. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I remember how my eyes stung with tears I wanted to shed – but not in front of him – as I watched the fire scorch up the body of my recently deceased neighbor, my town, my home. The heat made me dizzy and smoke suffocated me, but I had to keep going. I knew that if I stopped, I'd faint from the sheer lack of oxygen and die amidst the inferno. I couldn't afford to die such a meaningless death. The rage fed my body with the desire to kill, and that's what kept me going. I wanted compensation from the sick fuck that had done this. I wanted to make him suffer before his death. I yearned to slaughter him. Like he had slaughtered everything that mattered to me._

_And as I looked into the eyes of a maniac, I knew that the memory would haunt me forever._

* * *

Breach I - Crooked

"Thank ya so much, young lad! It'd been hellowa lot of work had ye not stopped by. Me old bones ain't fit for this kind o' labor anymore, I tell ye." The man's aged lips spread into genuine smile as he turned to shake hands with the taller young man with azure eyes and striking hairstyle.

"It's nothing..." Cloud muttered a polite response to his elder and looked him in the eye. The man was at least in his 60's and fragile-looking, and Cloud highly doubted he'd have managed to unload the barrels on his own. He had had time to spare and had noticed the geezer struggling with the load, so he had asked if he needed a hand.

"Ye youngsters should enjoy yeselves now that ye still got life within ye, lad. Go now, find a lassie, have yerself some fun – I'll manage the rest on me own, boy," the man winked and tapped Cloud on the shoulder in such a carefree way it made Cloud feel slightly uncomfortable and awkward, so he quickly bid him a polite farewell and stepped back onto the street he had been strolling on. Shaking his head to the man's words, he made it towards home.

Edge. The skeleton of a city people were forced to make up after the destruction of Midgar. It had been six months, and the new home was just beginning to build up muscle and skin over its barren foundations. Housing was under construction as well as the plumbing and electricity networks. The survivors managed somehow with what little they had left after the catastrophe, and some tens of thousands of fortunate ones now inhabited the earliest buildings, but there was no room for freeloaders in the slowly establishing community. Thousands of people were forced to live in the makeshift slums and survive without constant heating or running water. Everyone had to take care of themselves. If you couldn't work, you were on your own.

And then there was the illness.

A young woman, in her 20's, was laying on the ground in an alley. Her breathing came in short gasps and was labored and she had her eyes closed. Her skin was covered with dark, incurable blotches that festered throughout her body and up to her neck and face. The repulsive stench of rotting flesh lingered about her. As Cloud walked past the alleyway, he flinched and begun to move slightly away from the slow and painful death. Not out of disgust, but of fear. He felt bad about it, and silently pitied the woman's helpless stage but had no means to help her. There had been others. Hundreds of others.

And then she spoke to him. Through coughing, her voice strained and exhausted, she mumbled, "...lease... please... Help... me."

Bewildered, Cloud turned towards the woman, not being able so say anything for a while. "... Can you stand up?" he finally uttered as he moved carefully closer. The dying didn't reply, but struggled to look up to him with her last remaining strength. Her lips moved to say something – a request, a prayer? – but Cloud couldn't catch that. After a while, she whispered barely audibly with a raspy voice.

"Kill... me..." Cloud's eyes widened. "Please, sir... kill... me." The woman shuddered and threw up – a rust-colored blend of blood mixing into vomit. She was in the final stage. Cloud kneeled right next to her but not quite touching her. He knew this was a bad idea – a goddamn brain-fart of an idea – but he couldn't bring himself to leave the woman for some reason. Through her gagging, the woman kept on pleading for her immediate death. This touched Cloud on some level he couldn't quite comprehend. This woman had suffered, there was no reason to delay the inevitable. So he took out the small switchblade knife he had in his boot shaft and without a word brought it to her jugular. Then, realizing what he was about to do, he steadied his hand and gazed down into the woman's eyes. He saw pain, suffering, despair, loneliness, shame. But the most evident feeling was the wish for it all to end. Her eyes teared up and brightened as she realized what Cloud was about to do, and she parted her lips to thank him.

The blood hit Cloud's face before he had time to move away. Shocked, he blinked and his eyes flew to the stainless blade he still held close to the now shaking woman's neck. She was coughing and shaking uncontrollably, her face contorting into painful expressions as the strength of the fit shook her. Cloud quickly jumped back up to his feet and stepped away from the dying woman. Her coughs turned to gurgling and wheezing as she slowly drowned into her own vomit. Her shaking got less violent, and then, after a few weak attempts to empty her lungs onto the street, she collapsed with a heavy thud.

She was gone. Cloud stared at the disgusting scene, dumbfounded. He didn't need to check her pulse to know. When you've seen that much death, you know its presence when you feel it. With a determined movement, Cloud snapped the blade shut and wiping the mess off his cheek walked away from the carcass. Even rats would take some time consuming her.

Geostigma, that's how it was called. One by one, people had started exhibiting strange symptoms since the Meteor: first came the fever, then the itching. Some had hallucinations, and then appeared the blotches and at that point, it was over. There was no cure. The illness could take down within a week, but some would suffer for months. The illness caused extreme pain as the system slowly shut down, allowing the skin to rot alive. The stench that followed the decomposing was beyond nauseating. It was considered contagious, and eventually it would kill, so instead of taking care of the infected, they were forced out to survive on the streets. None of them did, of course. Most died within a week – out of illness or hunger and cold, it didn't matter. Their faith was sealed. There was nothing anyone could do.

* * *

What the hell was I doing that for, he thought as he walked now hastily. She was infected, I might have caught the Stigma myself. Cloud couldn't get the woman out of his head as he quietly made it through the quiet concrete jungle. He didn't pay attention to the few people that greeted him, leaving behind only angered and hurt acquaintances and not-to-be-spared-again smiles. He snapped out of it only when a breeze of chilling wind ruffled his wild mane, sending chills down his spine.

Oh in the name of... Since when did it get this chilly, he thought as he draped his arms around himself. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, so the air danced on his skin without an obstacle. He had gotten goosebumps and his teeth chattered briefly.

In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement. It was distant and moving away from him, but the color had gotten his immediate attention. _Silver_. Cloud's head snapped into the direction faster than a snake bites and his eyes widened with horror. His breath got stuck into his throat. There, amongst the crowd of workers stood a tall man with unimaginably long silver hair. His back was turned towards him so Cloud couldn't see his face, but he had only ever known one person with such a flamboyant-looking hair... Only one word had time to rush into his now horrified mind,

"_No_."

Cloud's eyelids went down for a millisecond that felt like an era, and suddenly Cloud loathed that basic reflex of which purpose is to prevent his eyes from drying and to keep his vision clear. Ironically, for now if ever Cloud felt like he really needed to be able to _see_, clearly or not was secondary. Of course his reflexes gave him the Finger and his vision went black. When finally Cloud opened his eyes, the silver was gone.

He let out a deep breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding as he blinked rapidly for a few times, trying to summon the earlier image back. When he truly looked at the corner where he had thought he had seen the monster standing, he noticed that there was a torn, dirty white bed sheet hung to dry and it flapped helplessly as the gust assaulted it.

A bed sheet. Cloud shook his head in disbelief and furrowed his brows in irritation.

"Weird..." Still not quite accepting what he was seeing now, he shot the last scrutinizing stare into the corner and the sheet, as if trying to interrogate them, squeeze the truth out of the poor piece of fabric with his eyes, before he turned to go home, unsure and somewhat confused. He gladly welcomed his subconscious to fuck off and bitterly accepted the fact that he had gotten scared of a piece of bed covers. Now _that_ was bad-ass.

* * *

Cloud leaned his toned frame in a relaxed way against the rugged tile wall of his shower, cherishing the feeling of the water hitting his scalp and pouring down his neck and face. A small sigh of content escaped his lips as he ran his hands trough his mess of a hair. The steady burbling sound water made when running down the drain calmed him. And also the heat of the water – he much preferred hot showers. He treasured the little warmth in his day the water provided him. The touch of it felt always equally reassuring, comforting, caressing even. Like the touch of a lover: smooth, soft, gentle. Water didn't hurt him, discriminate against him nor did it betray him (excluding the few times someone simply had used all the hot water up by the time he got in and he had to manage with freezing dampness). Yes, a hot shower was a constant Cloud Strife rather valued in his daily life.

Shower also provided him with some undeniably private time – to think, mainly. And he thought, oh he thought about his day so much. He wished he wouldn't.

The incident of the dying woman had to have gotten to him. Cloud figured he was probably stressed out or something, and then the woman had been the trigger to send his subconscious into overdrive. His stomach still turned a little when he thought about the initial horror that had engulfed him at the notion of Sephiroth's figure.

He clearly wasn't over it. Far from it, and Cloud was painfully aware of that. He hadn't forgotten how Sephiroth, that demon with an angel's face, had taken everything away from him. His childhood, his dreams, his former respect for the brilliant soldier he had once looked up so much of, his beloved one... his sanity.

He had left Cloud a mess. After defeating Sephiroth in the crater it had taken him days to actually realize it was over. The man was gone. His legacy was so deeply imprinted into him that at first he had refused to accept it was fine to let it go. To get over it, let it go and move on. Inside, he was still mentally preparing to face him – to make up for his sins and redeem himself, for his own sake if no-one else's. For all the redeeming in the world wouldn't bring her back. Wouldn't bring anyone back.

Cloud sighed and turned the water off. Right now the water wasn't helping him, and he didn't want to waste what little hot water was left in the tank. He got out of the shower reluctantly, cherishing the hot, humid air inside the box before stepping out into the brisk room. He snarled at the new tingling on his skin and wrapped his lower half into a rag of a towel. The warm, moist air from the shower stall flowed into the cooler space and steamed the mirror of the small bathroom.

He walked over to the sink and without a second thought wiped the moisture off of the mirror with his palm. His mother had used to nag about his habit; she had hated the finger prints she claimed he left onto the mirror every time. Cloud had never cared but had bent to her will for the sake of avoiding an unnecessary argument. He hated quarreling.

His heart momentarily forgot how to beat when he saw his reflection. Where he had gotten used to see sky blue, sad eyes he now stared into acid-clear turquoise pair of his nightmares. His mouth fell agape and eyes widened, and his lungs stung for the sudden discontinuation of the flow of oxygen.

Cloud couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. All he understood was that Sephiroth's eyes looked back at him from his reflection. And there was the smirk. He tore his eyes off of the cold of the reflection's turquoise and noticed the cruel smirk on the creature's – _his, Sephiroth's?_ – face. A shudder ran through him and he gasped in distaste; he knew what that smirk meant. It was the same ruthless, toothless, satisfied grin that man had worn on his face when he had tried to kill him at the Mako reactor all those years ago. He had seen it on his face as he murdered Aerith. And Cloud had witnessed him dying that smirk on his face, like he had known something Cloud didn't. Yes, it was a grin that promised him pain.

_Are you surprised, Cloud?_ Cloud startled and spun around quickly to locate the source of the voice, only to see no-one. _Why would you be? You never let go of me._

"Stop it! Show yourself!" Cloud spat out form behind his grit teeth, doing his best to mask his terror.

_You still deny it? Fine, I'll show you._ Cloud gasped as an unknown force gripped him and forcefully turned him back to face the mirror as the voice erupted, _I'm right here!_

A gut-wrenching scream tore out of Cloud and he stumbled back away from the mirror as what he witnessed sunk in. The reflection in the mirror now showed halves of two faces. The one on the right he identified as his own, although unfamiliar, but what chilled him to the bone was the cruel expression manifesting on the left half of Sephiroth's malicious face. The warped reflection snarled at him and he could hear distant laughter.

Cloud's back met the wall with a crash and he could feel the sudden stinging ache in his elbow. He had hit the nerve as he stumbled into the concrete, but he only barely acknowledged it. Breathing erratically, he stared at the cackling distortion of a face in the mirror and felt his head spin. Impossible, he kept repeating inside his head.

"You're dead..." He hadn't meant to utter it out loud, but he rapidly lost control of his body, and felt more than commanded his hands to climb upwards to his face. Suddenly, one of them gripped his hair tightly as the other settled itself onto his neck and started squeezing. He heard cold, cruel cackling as the relentless hand that wasn't his anymore tightened its grip around his trachea and he was jerked forward.

_Do you still not understand, Cloud? You and I share the same existence_, the voice sliced into his consciousness.

"Shut up! I'm... nothing... like you!" Cloud struggled to spit out and was rewarded with a merciless tug of his hair. He yelped in both pain and fright.

_Foolish boy! You're a failure of a puppet. You don't have the strength to change your fate._

The hand around Cloud's throat cut his airway completely, and he fought desperately to breathe.

_You can struggle all you want. You'll never be rid of me, boy. Submit to it._

Suddenly, Cloud felt like his insides were turning into ice. He was so cold, and as he tried to force his limbs to obey, he could already feel the darkness coming. The bathroom and the gruesome apparition in the mirror got fuzzier and fuzzier, and he was freezing. Involuntarily, his knee met the cool tile flooring. When the darkness took him, he could still hear unvoiced, cold and menacing laughter.

As he came to, the first thing he noticed wasn't the fact that he was practically naked, the towel haphazardly laying beside him rather than around him. It wasn't even the soreness in his neck, later informing him about the faint yet existent bruises that were forming onto his alabaster skin.

It was banging. An eager fist repeatedly abusing the so-far-unyielding wooden frame of the bathroom door.

"Hey! Do you mind fixing your hair or whatever some time this millennium? I need to go to the bathroom!" Denzel's voice was irritated and somewhat pleading. Even through his haze Cloud figured if he knocked the door any harder, he'd come through.

Christ, how long was I out for...? Blinking himself into the real world, he grabbed his head as if to protect it from accidentally falling off if he shook it took roughly.

"I'll... I'll be out in a minute!" he yelled a hasty reply, aiming for serene but his grogginess was audible. The knocking paused for a moment, and Cloud _tch_'ed: he had been caught. The kid really was smart as a whip...

"Hey Cloud... are you alright?" Denzel's voice hold some polite level of concern but he refrained from demanding. He knew he wouldn't get the answer even if he did.

"I'm fine... Denzel, hold on a sec." Cloud grunted and heavily lifted himself on his feet. A quick glance around the dull bathroom revealed no imminent evidence of Cloud collapsing in there. He secured his towel properly around himself – he had always been shy about himself – and very, very cautiously approached the now clear mirror. Great, he thought, I've been out for long enough for the moist to diminish. There weren't any excess water droplets on the floor anymore, either.

At least an hour, he thought and closed his eyes. What the hell had all that been about? As he reluctantly looked into the mirror, he didn't dare to expect anything.

His ruffled appearance looked back to him with the exact same amount of feeling-like-shit as did the original. His hair was a mess (well, messier) and he seemed to have aged a decade. His right cheek was flushed red for being pressed against the hard floor for so long. And there – and this was what caused Cloud to widen his eyes in disbelief – on his neck, there were slowly darkening bruises.

"Seriously, Cloud! I need to use the bathroom! Kinda, like, _right now_!" Denzel's voice broke Cloud's contemplation. Blinking in unison with his once again recognizable reflection, he uttered an affirmative answer and – checking once more that his towel was securely fastened – went to open the door.

"What took you so long?!" Denzel's attempted snap was palatalized into a mere exclamation as his eyes found their way onto the older male's neck. "What happened to your neck?"

Cloud flinched and turned his face away from the boy, hoping that his bangs would naturally move to cover the evidence of violence. "Uh.. um, street fight." It was a lame excuse, but he was quite confident Denzel wouldn't press on the matter. The boy respected him more than that.

"Wow, who'd be dumb enough to take you on?! I'm sure you kicked their sorry ass, Cloud!" Denzel was quickly silenced as Cloud gave him a disapproving look. He wasn't pleased with the fact that the boy had picked up the habit to use crude language, for someone of his age. More than willing to escape the judging look, Denzel quickly excused himself and barricaded himself into the bathroom. Cloud snorted slightly and decided to let it go, just this once.

Cloud's room was scarcely decorated (as was pretty much everything in the shag of a house they lived in) with only the essentials: a bed, a small closet, a desk and a couple of chairs. The rug was a bit torn in the edges but Cloud didn't mind. He was humble when in came to interior decorating; as long as he had a place he could call his own, he was satisfied.

Not bothering to take off his towel, he crashed his back onto the bed and brought his arms loosely under his head. What the hell had all that been about? He had actually passed out in the bathroom. Cloud's eyebrows came slightly closer to each other as he tried to gather what had happened. He had seen... Sephiroth... his face in the mirror, and then there had been pain and then... nothing. He remembered being strangled... by his own hand. And then there was cold...

He brought the same hand he had used to abuse his throat to gently run it over the now clearly visible dark-purple markings. They stung, ergo they ached. Ergo, they were definitely there. Cloud made a mental note to only wear turtle necks until the bruises were gone. He didn't feel like dealing with the demands to elaborate.

"What the hell..." The thought was more of a voiced sigh than an actual attempt of communication. Sighing deeply, Cloud brought his hand to rest on his forehead and closed his eyes.

Was he losing it? Was he going crazy? He could swear he had seen Sephiroth at the construction site. Impossible, his reason cut in, Sephiroth's dead. And then there had been that... incident with the Stigmatic. Cloud grimaced as he involuntarily recollected being literally inches from cutting the woman's throat. What in the name of Holy had gotten into him? He battled when it was necessary to defend himself or those close to him, but he didn't usually have it in his character to kill without a reason. Unless ending someone's suffering counts as a reason? And then... in the bathroom, just now...

There was something seriously fucked up in his day. Or in his head. The frame didn't fit the picture. But which one was crooked: the frame or the picture?

* * *

**AN: Aww, were you so disappointed - all that steamy, wet nakedness and yet no citrus fruits? Well, gotcha! But you can cherish the mental image if you like.**

**I really am not sure about the accent in the beginning. I aimed for something like rural British, Scottish-mix... something. How did I do? All in all, all comments and especially constructive criticism are most warmly welcomed! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Breach 3

**AN: ****Please read this before reading the actual text****. This chapter includes quite a bit of **_italics_**, so let me just explain what I'm after with all of them.**

**The whole outtakes in italics are flashbacks, obviously. Single sentences in italics are the Other's speech or thoughts, and single words may be highlighted just for the sake of emphasis. I hope it's not too confusing. It shouldn't be - I tried to be systematic with the use.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII characters.**

* * *

Sing for absolution

I will be singing

And falling from your grace

There's nowhere left to hide

In no one to confide

The truth burns deep inside

And will never die

Lips are turning blue

A kiss that can't renew

I only dream of you

My beautiful

Muse – Sing for Absolution

* * *

Breach III – Mr. Hyde

_Cloud Strife was five years old when he encountered Death for the first time._

_Mrs. Royce's, who was a dear friend of Mrs. Strife's, cat had kittens, and the boy thought that the newborn fur-balls were the best thing in the world. He went to Mrs. Royce's house every day to play with the kittens and see the proud mother. Mrs. Royce was always happy that he came by and she always had milk and cookies for him. She even told him that if it would be OK with his mother, he could have a kitten if he liked, since she was going to sell them. So Cloud begged and begged his mother every day, and finally Mrs. Strife gave in and promised that when the kittens were old enough to be separated from their mother, Cloud could choose himself one. Feeling that complete, honest happiness that only a small child is able to feel, Cloud smiled from ear to ear and ran off to tell Mrs. Royce the great news._

_Cloud adored all the kittens, but one of them was his favorite. The kitten was fudge-colored with darker brown stripes across his forehead and in his back. He was very adventurous (even foolishly so) by nature and Cloud named him Rascal. So after three (at least in Cloud's impatient opinion) agonizingly long months, Rascal moved to the Strife household._

_Rascal died three weeks later. Cloud was playing outside and the cat was with him; Rascal explored the yard, sniffing anything and everything, wandering with that cat's curiosity, and Cloud kept an occasional eye on him but let him explore freely. It wasn't until later when Cloud heard brutal growling and hissing and thumping of large paws from behind the shed that he hurried to Rascal._

_A small Nibel Wolf dragged a furry mess of red-tainted fudge around in the ground until it noticed the human. The wolf grew anxious and let go of his prey, ready to dash for an escape if the two-legged turned out to be dangerous. His instincts getting the better of him, Cloud snatched a log from the pile by the shed and rushed towards the beast, yelling what he hoped to be in a frightening way and brandishing the piece of wood above his head. Taken aback by the sudden aggressiveness, the wolf whined and ran away tail between his legs, reluctantly leaving its dinner behind._

_As Cloud held the cat's limp and blood-stained body in his hands, the finality of the situation struck him like a sledge hammer. Although he didn't know the word for it, he knew that this was something scary and sad and horrible and that the cat wasn't moving anymore. He tried to pet him, even shake him to make him respond. The body remained silent and motionless._

_Wailing hopelessly, the boy brought inside the lifeless body of what had only moments ago been Rascal. Mrs. Strife let him cry while she sang to him in a quiet voice. Singing soothed him. Always when Cloud had cried and cried when he was still a baby, his mother's singing had always calmed him down. Likewise, after a few moments, the heart-broken wailing turned into sobbing and then into quiet sniffing. "Hey mommy... Is Rascal going to be alright?"_

_Mrs. Strife blinked at first at his son's question, then an honest smile spread across her face. "Yes he is, sweety."_

_Cloud's mother told him that Rascal had gone to join the Lifestream. Told him that the Lifestream was the most beautiful place in the world and that all that is living comes from it and after a while they have to return there again._

"_Why?"_

"_It's all a part of life, dear. We all go to the Lifestream sometime." Mrs. Strife was smiling to her son, although tears glimmered in her eyes as well._

"_But what if Rascal doesn't like it in there?" the boy pouted._

_Mrs. Strife laughed a little before petting the boy's mane of a hair. "Oh, I'm sure he does, honey." Seeing that the boy didn't quite buy it, she reassured him, "Rascal is a brave cat. I'm sure he will be fine."_

_They buried the cat into their garden the next day. Mrs. Royce joined them as well, and she even brought a small wreath of flowers to lay onto the little grave. Cloud didn't say a word the entire time, but his mother could feel his little hand shaking. He didn't speak until dinner, and when he did, his mother was both bemused and dumbfounded of her son's question,_

"_Isn't Rascal going to be cold?"_

_His mother explained to him again that Rascal was now in a better place: in a good place where things like cold or hunger didn't exist. Still, after she had put her son to bed, she soon heard the door closing after a small body. She smiled from the bottom of her heart as she watched from the window how Cloud carefully laid a small blanket on top on the grave._

* * *

(Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap...)

Cloud hadn't thought about the cat for years, it seemed. He had almost forgotten about that, actually. But now that early childhood memory had somehow just popped into his mind for no apparent reason. He snorted at his 5-year-old self's naïve yet adorable behavior. To think that he had actually taken a blanket to Rascal's grave... He smiled to himself partly amused, partly a bit embarrassed. It had felt so important at the time. And later her mother had always bragged about her son's gentleness to her friends, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears for being so moved._Mother..._

"Cloud..."

I hope you're happy...

(Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap...)

"Cloud, do you mind?"

(Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap...)

"Do you mind stopping that tapping?! It's beyond irritating!" Tifa spat out huffily as she snapped her fingers right in front of Cloud's open-but-not-seeing eyes. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn't realized he had been the cause of the noise. As if just now understanding the simple movement of his wrist, he stilled the pen he held in his hand, ceasing to ram it absentmindedly against the bar counter over and over again.

Suddenly, the second thing he realized was that the space had fallen quiet. He lifted his gaze from the dark hardwood surface and took a look around to recollect when and where he was again. He noticed the irritated expressions of the other customers waiting or enjoying their drinks by the bar, and the curious and expecting faces of some others sitting in the nearby tables. It was like they had taken an interest in the situation when Tifa's raised voice had reached them, and now they were anxiously waiting for the carnage to happen: to see the accused getting scolded by his lady friend. Perhaps a quarrel, possibly a bitch-slap or something if they were lucky. They were expecting _entertainment_, at the expense of the young Strife boy.

Not wanting to endure their hungry eyes longer, Cloud huffed and turned back to face the counter. He didn't dare to look at Tifa – mainly in fear that it would trigger a punishment that was yet to come. However, as the public realized nothing else was coming the eccentric spike-head's way, some disappointed murmur was heard, accompanied with some snorts, but soon the boozers forgot about it and went back to their own businesses.

Tifa had returned to her interrupted conversation with Barret, who was emptying his third pint two stools from Cloud. Barret had an excellent tolerance, but the beer was slowly getting to him, it seemed. Barret talked with his hands excitedly as he went on with his story. He was definitely one of those people who got loud and overly cheerful when drunk. Tifa listened intently, leaning in from the other side of the counter, honestly intrigued by whatever it was he was talking about. The both of them ignored Cloud completely.

Cloud glanced at them, briefly wondering if he should scoot over and join the conversation. Cloud rose to his feet and made a move to join his friends, but the sound of a

_**phone ringing**_

stunned him.

"... and I swear, Tifa, it was at least THIS big! THIS big, I tell you. It's not everyday you see a Dual Horn the size of a house..." Barret's proud blabber about his previous opponent went on as Tifa excused herself with a smile and went for the phone.

Suddenly, Cloud decided he didn't feel like company. He turned on his heels before his friends noticed him and headed for the door as Tifa's eager voice sang into the phone, "Bar 7th Heaven, how can I help you? ...Yes, we also serve appetizers... Oh, bye, Cloud!" More out of obligation and habit than actually greeting, the said man swung his hand for goodbye but didn't turn to look behind him before pushing the door open into the late-evening air.

The door shut behind him with a low thud. A _sigh_. Cloud wasn't in the mood for drinking. But then again, his friends were having fun, and all he did was sitting in the corner, doing nothing. Except irritating Tifa with pen-tapping, fantastic, he thought sarcastically. He didn't want to ruin their evening, so he figured it would be best to leave them have their fun without him. It's not like they had exactly missed him there tonight anyway. Sure, technically he should have gone to talk to his friends since he hadn't seen Barret for two months now, not since Barret had traveled to Junon to negotiate about collaboration regarding food and supplies. But he just... didn't feel like it right now.

He sighed again as he made his way to idly lean against the far wall of the building, gazing up to the sky. It was a starry night, not yet cold but the first hints of the coming rainy season could be felt in the air. The humidity made Cloud's back sweat against the plastered wall.

A part of him wished that his friends would come to look for him, to plead him to come back inside and have something to drink and _forfuck's sake perk up a little_. Then again, they had no reason to doubt him when he left the bar with all the indications to really _leave_ the bar, so why would they come looking for him if they figured he had gone on his a-little-less-than-merry way?

He wasn't really thinking of any destination in particular when he hopped onto Fenrir, secured his driving goggles and revved up into the calm, darkened streets. At the moment he longed to feel the wind whipping against his face and ruffling his hair as the vehicle's speed accelerated. The intensifying flow of adrenaline, endorphin and testosterone thrilled him and urged him to _go faster_! Within 10 minutes he was at the outskirts of the central area and the few street lights Edge had offered were left behind. Fenrir's headlights bore through the thickening darkness as if devouring it. The steady humming of his bike suddenly seemed like a wild beast roaring in the middle of the surrounding silence.

The vast nothingness invited him to dig in deeper into the unlimited emptiness. _That's right, let it go. Let loose. Forget about everything. Go. Faster! _Cloud's mind rapidly cleared off all worded thought as he full throttled through the wasteland. All that was left was the _feeling_ as adrenaline made his heart thump oh, so erratically, boosting his senses to the maximum. If he hadn't been a cool, collected, mature adult, he would have, no doubt, screamed out his thrill for the surrounding silence to hear like a snot-nosed adolescent kid driving fast for the first time. He never got tired of it. The feeling was engulfing. The superior feeling of cheating death every second he didn't fatally lose control of his bike. The supreme thrill of feeling alive as the merciless gust sliced against his skin. And the blissful feeling of just being able to _be_. No-one expected nothing of him in this personal euphoria he was experiencing. _No-one is there to worry about you, to pity you, to smother you by trying to cheer you up all the goddamn time..._

Cloud consciously snapped himself out of such thoughts. He was going 210 km/h on a motorbike in pitch-black darkness – he needed to focus. Hitting a random used-to-be-a-Mu-later-speckled-intestines in this speed wasn't exactly on his list of things he wanted to experience. Besides, he would only ruin his own mood if he drooped into such thoughts. _Right?_ And it's not like it's their fault, anyway, he thought, deciding that's final for now.

He hadn't thought about where he was going, so he was a little surprised when he realized he was driving towards the Forgotten Capital. The edges of the Sleeping Forest glowed in the horizon, and Cloud slowed his pace as he got closer.

To him, this place was magical. One could call it sacred even. If there was some holy place left in this world, he would have bet his life it was this one. The Forest, despite its name, never slept. He could feel so much _life_ pulsating in the midst of tree branches as he drove silently along the forest path. Additionally, the mysterious shine that the Forest emitted never went out. Cloud liked to think that a guardian watched over the forest, keeping its radiance untainted. He had never considered himself religious, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but there was something in this place that was emitting some unearthly power Cloud couldn't comprehend. But he respected that power, and hence refrained from reckless speeding when inside this forest. He didn't want to disturb the peace more than was necessary.

An uncomfortable feeling sunk into his chest as he could make out the outlines of the Forgotten Capital. He felt the sting in his heart again and had to blink a few times to ease out the sudden salty feeling behind his eyes. The lake glimmered its undying, eternal shimmer as he killed the gas of his bike and parked it a respectable few meters from the shore. The lake's surface was a mirror, not a wisp of wind stirred its peace.

After Aerith had died, Cloud had made it a habit to come visit here at least once a month. It was a secret he had never told anyone, although he didn't quite know why. Certainly everyone would understand that he would want to visit Aerith's final rest. But he didn't want them to start asking to come along with him. When he came here, he absolutely wanted to do it alone. If the others wanted to pay their respects, they could do that on their own. He wanted to keep these visit perfectly private.

"_Shitsureishimasu_. Sorry to bother..." he said in a quiet voice to no-one in particular, yet it echoed around the opening and resonated from the tree branches. And it was almost as if Cloud could have heard the sudden gust of wind whisper back at him, "_Welcome._" Cloud regretted that he hadn't brought a flower with him; usually he always brought one to lay into the water. The woman had enjoyed them so much in her lifetime that to him it seemed fitting. Oh well, he hadn't exactly planned on coming here, so he forgave himself for forgetting it just this once.

He walked slowly to the waterline and kneeled to look into the crystal-clear water for a little while. He carefully lowered his cupped hands into the water and drank. The water was cold and the purifying experience soothed him every time. Feeling a little more content, he eased himself out onto the shore and gazed over the lake at the Forgotten City. He took his time before speaking.

"Hello, Aerith," Cloud began with a low voice. For some reason, it always felt hard for him to say anything in here. The ethereal atmosphere here seemed too precious for him to violate by making a sound. "It's... been a while since I last came." Cloud dug his palm into the sand on the shore and grabbed a fistful; then, he started sprinkling it out of his hand again in small portions, as if he was feeding birds with breadcrumbs.

Coming to this place **now** might have been a mistake, Cloud thought hesitantly. This place always made him so sad. It had been his intention to lighten his mood up a little, that's why he had left the bar without a word.

Then again, he inhaled the restful air of the lakeside and raised his eyes back to the stars above. His mind was cleared of thoughts and he felt truly relaxed as he gazed at the diamond-speckled satin above. This really was a beautiful night. Maybe it was fit for visiting her final rest after all. Cloud's mind flew back to the night at Gold Saucer that now seemed like ages ago, although it hadn't even been a year. The stars had shone also that night when he had had that first date with Aerith. A small smile crept onto his lips at the recollection and he subconsciously clenched his hand in order to grab a hold of someone's hand that wasn't there.

* * *

"_A DA-TE!" Have you been on one before?!" she asked cheerfully._

_Blushing like crazy, Cloud cast his eyes into the floor and confessed that no, he actually had never been on a real date before. Silly child's play didn't count..._

_Aerith's smile widened and her eyes reflected determination as she firmly pushed the baffled spike-head out of the inn. He tried to protest at first, but the both of them knew he really didn't mean it. At all. I guess it's a guy thing, that need to be macho and all, Aerith thought and snickered quietly. In fact, she thought that the blond was being incredibly cute._

_That was the first time they had kissed. Well, more or less. Cloud could only hope his eagerness wasn't betraying him as he gracefully kneeled in front of the "princess" and laid a gentle kiss onto Aerith's hand. His eyes widened a little as he noticed that her hand was trembling, and the little sound, almost a moany gasp she let out made his heart skip a beat, "_Cloud_... I mean, 'Alfred'..."_

_His throat was sandpaper as he pushed himself back up. He glanced shyly at Aerith and noted that her face was a bit flushed and her eyes were glazed over as she gazed back at him with a small smile on her lips. Just then it registered to him that he was feeling kind of hot. It dawned to him that his face was probably burning as well, and he ignored the urge to touch his forehead to check his temperature. They were still on the stage, for crying out loud! Cloud probably heard some distant talking – the other characters reciting their lines – but he didn't really pay attention to what was being said. For a moment, all he saw was the woman in front of him. To him, Aerith had never looked more stunning. The blushing, sheepishly smiling woman looked so dreamy Cloud had never thought such beauty existed. He had to force a gulp to ease the irritation in his pharynx, and the feeling of heat spread dangerously throughout his body. With significant effort he managed to will away his foreboding arousal. In a whole new way, this night just might escalate to be the hardest – ooh, bad wording! – he had ever had._

_As they made their way along the festively decorated corridors of Gold Saucer, Aerith sneaked her hand into his. Cloud, a bit surprised, blinked his questioning eyes at her and raised an eyebrow. But when she just smiled even more gently back at him and gave his palm a squeeze, he eventually relaxed as well and returned to her smile. It occurred to him that Aerith was expecting an initiative from him, and after a second of summoning his courage, he stopped. As Aerith looked at his suddenly serious face, worried incomprehension written all over her face, Cloud brought their intertwined hands to his face and kissed her hand, longingly and lovingly._

_If the initial blush on Aerith's face had subdued since the framed scene on the stage only moments ago, now her entire face flushed bright red again and she drew in a long, savoring breath. She stared at Cloud's closed eyes, partially fearing, partially expecting the moment he would open his eyes again. She let out a charmed sigh when the man, after a while that seemed like an eternity, returned her gaze._

_Cloud looked deep into her eyes like a kid looks at his presents on Christmas Day morning: excited yet unsure; hopeful and yet risking the chance to disappoint himself if the present doesn't answer to the expectations. There was genuine happiness – a look that Aerith had never seen on the man's face before. The drastic difference to Cloud's usually passive to the point of being called phlegmatic essence delighted her. Encouraged by his action, she in turn decided to make a move._

_Carefully she inched her body closer to the man and cast a longing gaze into his eyes. Her expression feigned innocence as she pressed her body against Cloud's in such a way that he surely could feel her soft breasts against his chest. The baffled expression and a small – and undoubtedly unintentional – gasp she heard gave her confidence as she slowly fluttered her eyes shut and ghosted her lips over the slightly quivering ones of the dumbfounded spike-head._

_Cloud felt the slightest touch on his lips and tasted more than felt Aerith's breath. His eyes widened as what was happening sunk in and he froze. Playfully (or mercifully) she gently pecked at his lips for a while, taking her time to deepen the kiss, allowing Cloud time to get used to the sensations. _

_Cloud was pretty sure his mind was buzzing, but not a single coherent thought solidified in his preoccupied brains. The smallest touches on his lips sent waves of delight and warmth throughout his body. He felt dizzy and thrilled and nervous and amazing and ashamed and excited and he could hardly even breathe. Finally his dazed mind managed to form four consecutive words into a simple sentence: _

_Kiss her back, _moron_! _

_Slowly his body begun to respond to the woman's caressing mouth, and his lips moved on their own to kiss her back. Very lightly at first, tentatively. Soon his mind kicked into the right gear, and instinctively Cloud brought his arms around Aerith and pulled her tighter against himself, burying his hand into her hair. This emitted a surprised – delighted? – gasp from Aerith, and she pressed her lips more firmly against his. And as she finally felt his shy tongue licking her lips, begging for a permission to enter, she smirked approvingly. A fast learner, she thought as she opened her mouth a little, allowing Cloud to deepen the kiss._

_Aerith's mouth just had to be the sweetest thing Cloud had ever tasted, and he was unable to stop a needy gasp from escaping his hungry mouth when he felt her submitting to his advances. Aerith's tantalizing scent – why did he just now realize how wonderful the woman smelled?! – dizzied him as his tongue felt about every inch, every curve of her mouth. _

_They only pulled back to breathe a few moments later, Cloud groaning longingly. Aerith was panting quietly and she grinned mischievously at Cloud. Not bad for a first-timer. Not bad at all, actually. The boy's a natural talent, she thought. She placed a few quick pecks onto his lips before pulling out of the embrace; Cloud only reluctantly let her go, but resigned as she flashed him a final cheerful smile before grabbing his wrist and starting to pull him towards the gondola._

* * *

"It was such a beautiful night..." he muttered out loud and looked back into the lake. Aerith, I wish I could take you there again, to see the Chocobo races and the games. I bet you would've liked them. A heavy sigh escaped him and Cloud felt he was on the edge of something remotely resembling sobbing, so he quickly thought of something else to talk about.

"You should see the new city nowadays. It's really growing up so fast. And Tifa's bar is a hit. People love it, seriously..." The man fell silent as what he had uttered sunk in. No. No, he didn't want Aerith to see the ruin in which the people nowadays lived. She would have been mortified for the sick and the uncared-for. The decadence of the city was far too severe; Cloud didn't want Aerith's spirit to feel sad for the people left behind. And as for Tifa's bar... True, it was a success. People need something to drown their sorrows with. Feeling a bit guilty of bringing up the subject, he sat silent, sprinkling more sand out of his hand.

"How... are you?" The question was intended to be caring. But the way Cloud winced it out, almost flinching from his own words, it indicated that there was something guilty about that thought. The blue sparkling of the lake suddenly made Cloud remember a certain darker, electrical shade of blue. The pressing memory of his nightmare almost two weeks ago broke loose inside him, and he suddenly couldn't suppress the image of the creature – _not_ Aerith! – slowly being covered in the black goo. And then there was the screaming and slicing and guilt and hurt and cold... Cloud had to will away a gag; the memory of the nightmare came back in excruciating detail.

"I had this... weirdest dream about you. First it was like a paradise and I was sure you were in a better place, and then..." Cloud inhaled deeply, "then... you changed. Into something... I- I don't know what that was or what that place was anymore or what happened, but... you seemed so sad I couldn't bare it. It felt like I was causing it." He came to an abrupt stop: there were no words to describe it. The iron band around his heart squeezed tighter. "And you... you said that it was me who caused this..." Cloud couldn't reach the rest of his thought, it had escaped him into such realms of emotion he wasn't able to handle right now.

For he knew. There hadn't been a day he hadn't felt regret and guilt for what had happened – knowing that it was finally his fault. He should have been stronger. He should have been able to stop it from happening, should have seen it coming and stop her from leaving the inn... He should have done something! Something _not_ being trying to kill her himself and then standing there like an idiot as Sephiroth murdered her in front of his eyes. And knowing this was what tortured him the most.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered with a now pained sigh. "Do you still blame me?"

For once, Cloud was relieved to get no answer. It seemed hard enough that Cloud lived with his feeling of inadequacy every day; he would never be able to forgive himself.

Those he cared for always had to suffer, and it was always his fault. He couldn't save his mother on the day Sephiroth murdered half of the townspeople in Nibelheim. Zack had given up his own life to protect his, and he hadn't been able to do anything to stop it. Zack's chest had been blown out right in front of his eyes, and what had he done? Being fucking unable to even move! And then there was even Rascal the cat when he had been but a little kid... Suddenly it felt ironic that the memory had come to him today of all days, as if to mock him some more.

And then Aerith, too. He should have been stronger! Should have been able to resist Sephiroth. Of course, no-one could resist Sephiroth. But he _should_ have! ...But now it was too late. The only thing left for him now was to beg for forgiveness that would never come.

He hadn't noticed he had started crying silently before a single droplet fell from his cheek onto his palm. He had to blink a couple of times to recollect what tears were. It had been a while since he had last cried.

"Aerith..." Hugging his knees, he whispered the woman's name and lowered his head to hide his eyes from the world. It wasn't fair! What happened to her was horrible! She was such a beautiful person, she would have deserved better! She should have been living her lovable life filled with warmth and beauty and happiness and love. But instead she was laying in the bottom of the now mockingly ethereal lake, decomposing in freezing cold and it was his fault...!

I'm sorry. He could utter the apology a myriad of times; he would never be granted an absolution.

_How pathetic._

"Huh?!" Cloud's head snapped up and he eased his arms. Alarmed, his eyes scanned the landscape for a figure at break-neck speed. Nothing.

In fact, now that Cloud thought about it, there really was _nothing_. What little wind there had been had stilled, and the low humming of the forest had fallen silent. Even the sky seemed like it was holding in a breath, that's how impenetrable the noiselessness was. His brows furrowed slightly as he uttered, "Weird..." The sound sounded like a shout in the stillness. His furrow deepened as he glared at the woods.

_For how long do you plan on dwelling in the past, Cloud? Or perhaps you just enjoy your private little pity-party. Having some masochistic tendencies there, hm?_ said a voice to his left. The sudden intimacy of the voice made him gasp and he made a move to stumble on his feet. There was no-one. _Do you fear me, Cloud?_

What the...? "Show yourself!" he yelled in irritation with a hint of insecurity mixed into his voice as he rose up. Whoever is doing this, not fucking funny, he thought. He was rewarded with unreal silence.

Until the entire world exploded. Suddenly the air was filled with noise: deep rumbling of an earthquake tearing the ground open; agonized screaming; rattling of machine guns being fired; car breaks screeching; thunder roaring... Cloud clamped his hands to his ears and fell to his knees, hissing in pain as his ears struggled under the assault. And above all else, he heard laugher. It was malicious and sadistic, and it froze his insides. A small whimper escaped him.

And then the noise was gone. Suddenly, he was once again surrounded by silence, and he gasped in relief. What the hell is going on? he thought and gazed around the lakeside.

_What indeed... What do you expect to achieve by coming here, hm? Striving to become a saint, are we?_

"Who the hell is this?! Show yourself!" Cloud yelled all around himself. This joke was really getting old.

_And you are supposed to be the savior of the Planet? Don't make me laugh. You are not fit to be called a hero, Cloud; you are weak. Here, let me prove it to you._ Cloud's arm was raised. And not on his will. Cloud gasped as he snarled at the rogue limb in bewilderment; it didn't obey him. _See? Weak._ The voice sounded amused, but the malevolence in it was imminent. In a second a jolt of pain ran along Cloud's arm and he gasped in surprise and discomfort.

His hand was steaming. A trail of the vapor rose from his arm and a slight hissing sound could be heard. The pain intensified; Cloud felt like his skin was burning, and he grit his teeth to hiss in torment. And from the midst of it he could hear sadistic chuckling. _Ooh, but that looks painful, doesn't it?Would you like me to,_ Cloud's foot took a step closer to the water, _- ease out the pain?_

Cloud cast his eyes down to look at his reflection and his eyes widened; he staggered away from the water. Yet his body didn't move an inch. Instead, a cruel smirk spread across his reflection's face and he gazed into pale green, glowing eyes.

_There is nowhere for you to run to; you cannot escape your fate, _puppet_. Accept it. Surrender. _A low chuckle reverberated from Cloud's throat as his expression turned malicious. It grew louder, and Cloud threw his head backwards to release a cruel cackle towards the skies.

"No..." Cloud grunted from behind gritted teeth, "Never!" His arms shook as he forced his limbs to obey him again and snarled – partly at the intensifying pain in his arm, partly in defiance. He wasn't going to play along with this again. There was no way he would let himself being controlled like this. He was better than this! He forced his right hand to grab his shoulder in an attempt to tear himself further away from the lake.

The voice snorted. _Obstinate fool!_

Cloud gasped in surprise as his limbs moved on their own again, and he was pulled down on his knees, eyes glued onto the Mako-enriched ones of his reflection. His, but not quite his. The Other grinned its Cheshire Cat grin. Then, much as Cloud tried to fight it, his steaming hand was lowered into the lake.

The water hissed and gurgled, and even more steam was released into air. Cloud yelped; the pain in his hand numbed and turned into unrelenting tingling that was already driving him mad. It was as if a billion ants were running up and down his arm, and he resisted the urge to scratch. From the bubbles, a veil of blackness spread rapidly throughout the water. Soon it became too dark to see through, and Cloud feared it would poison the entire lake for the dark matter was hungrily tainting the glimmering surface, and it seemed like even the stars being reflected on the water's surface seemed frightened to be engulfed by the conquering blackness.

_See? Even the Cetra woman recognizes our connection. And now her remaining power is trying to reject us. Stupid bitch._ And indeed, the way the black poison spread across the water was peculiar. It formed a clear-edged circle around the spike-head, like something was actually preventing it from spreading further.

_But the power of the Cetra is nothing compared to what the two of us can achieve. Together. Now, submit!_

Cloud flinched and shut his eyes tight. The voice had been screaming, and he had felt a jab of physical pain. His head was throbbing. He had to make it stop, now!

_There is no point in fighting it, Cloud. We both know you will reach out to me eventually. You _need_ me, Cloud._

"Shut up..." the spike-head murmured angrily and snarled. A rush of panicked rage rushed through him, giving him power. With all of his might he fought to regain control of his own body, and the irritated snort of disbelief he heard inside his head encouraged him even more. His hand tingled and shook greatly before yielding, and with sheer willpower he dragged it up from the water, lost his balance and stumbled onto his back on the shore.

Stillness. For a moment, the air around him was so calm that he hardly dared to breathe to not disturb it. Finally air invaded him again as he drew in oxygen in voracious gasps. The steam and black water were gone, as was the tingling sensation in his arm. His head still throbbed, but the aching feeling was numbing. Cloud blinked in between his gasping and wiggled his fingers a little just to make sure he still knew how to use them. When he was finally satisfied, he dragged himself to sit up and sighed.

_Have it your way then._

The Other was smiling maliciously; Cloud didn't need to see it to know it.

_Take your time, Cloud, I'm patient. You can fight me all you want. My victory will be all the sweeter that way... my puppet._

He hadn't meant to gasp. He didn't want to give the voice that satisfaction. But Cloud couldn't help himself as he felt the feather-light touch in the back of his neck. And then there was nothing. He stood alarmed for a moment, prepared to battle if the... thing should happen again. Inwardly, he scolded himself for letting himself being pressured like this. But he could sense nothing, and eventually the steady humming of the forest registered in his mind again. The atmosphere had gone back to peaceful. Cloud let out a deep breath and relaxed his tensed muscles. "I'm nothing like you," he said more to reassure himself than anyone else.

What is happening to me?! he thought in complete awe as he took a careful step towards the once again crystal-clear lake again. He wanted to wash the mental filth off of himself. But nothing could have prepared him to the shock as he lowered his hand into the water.

The blackness started spreading again from where he touched the water. Drawing in a horrified breath, he instantly withdrew his hand and stared into the darkened water in utter shock. A strong jerk in his stomach told him he was about to lose more than his mind, and he quickly spun away from the water and backed away from the shore. Throwing up didn't do much good. If anything, it solidified the existence of... the Other.

When he had coughed up all that it's worth, Cloud quickly got onto his bike and left the lake, feeling probably more desperate and lonely than he ever had.

* * *

**Whooh, that was a long update. I dunno, I guess my original idea kinda gained more and more around it as I went on. Because this actually turned out to be completely different than what I had in mind when I first started writing this. Thanks for reading, although it was lengthy! Please let me know what you think.**

**And poor Rascal! ;-; I think that was probably the single most difficult thing to write. I wanted it to be dramatic but not too much. Nonetheless, it was a sad scene to write. Snifu.**


End file.
